


Hard, Bold and Wicked

by magickalmolly



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickalmolly/pseuds/magickalmolly
Summary: Frodo's a wicked old hobbit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written November 13, 2003.

"Sam, would you hand me that book from the shelf? The green one." 

"Sure enough, Mister Frodo." Sam set aside the mug he had been drying and walked to the bookcase across from where Frodo was sitting, stretching up onto his toes to reach the book in question. Frodo, from his seat at the kitchen table, peeked up through his lashes and watched as the back of Sam's breeches tightened across his rump, and the cuffs rode up to reveal twin hard muscles flexing in his calves. Frodo sighed softly and unconsciously rested his cheek against his palm, elbow firm on the table. 

Sam took the book from the shelf then, turning, and Frodo had to flick his eyes back down, pretending to read the pages in front of him.

 _I'm a wicked old hobbit,_ he thought to himself, but the fact was he simply couldn't help it. Frodo was fascinated with Sam's body, so much rounder and firmer than his own. All tanned from the garden and muscled, with strong thighs and... Frodo had to shake his head when he realized his thoughts had wandered off with him again.

The book was placed next to Frodo's elbow, and Frodo looked up fully this time to give Sam a warm smile and a thank you. Sam, as per usual, ducked his head a bit and turned a little pink around the edges. He never was one to easily accept thanks or praise, and it made him all the more endearing to Frodo.

"No trouble at all, sir. I'll just be finishing up those dishes now." And Sam crossed to the sink, picking up where he left off, drying the last of the plates as he hummed to himself. Frodo tried to keep his eyes on what he was writing, but it was no good. Sam's humming was distracting, but only in that Frodo knew Sam would be tapping a foot in time to the song, and that would flex the muscles in his calf, which would in turn jiggle the muscles in his thigh, which would in turn wiggle the muscles in his-

"Mister Frodo!" Sam rushed over with his dishtowel, quickly mopping up the hot liquid that had spilled across the table from Frodo's overturned cup. Frodo hadn't even realized he'd spilled his tea, and it took him a moment to think to pick up his papers so they wouldn't get wet.

"You should be more careful there, sir. You wouldn't want to have to write your pages over again." Sam finished cleaning up the table with his usual efficiency, and stood for a moment looking down at Frodo, the empty cup and the now-wet dishtowel bundled up together in his hands. He blinked, surprised at his own chastising words, and then shifted his gaze to the empty cup.

"Begging your pardon, Mister Frodo, sir. 's not my place to be telling you what to do." Frodo had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back the naughty words that were threatening to roll off his tongue. _I'd certainly like you to, Sam._ he thought to himself, and hid his smile with straightening his papers, tapping their edges several times against the table. 

"No, I should be more careful Sam, and I'm lucky to have you here to clean up after me." Sam only blushed at this and crossed back to the sink, and Frodo was grateful for the moment to be out from under Sam's eye. He was feeling a little pink around the edges himself.

Sam washed Frodo's cup and put it away with the rest of the morning's dishes, and Frodo found he couldn't keep his mind on his work. He knew if he were to ever finish he'd have to lock himself up in his study. 

Gathering up his papers and his ink and quill, Frodo rose from the table, but stopped when he spotted the book on the table Sam had brought him.

"Sam, can you put this book back for me? I don't need it after all."

"Of course, Mister Frodo." Sam scooped up the book with a cheery smile, and crossed to the bookcase, rising up on his toes again to slip it back where it belonged. Frodo stared openly this time, watching once again as Sam's breeches tightened over the curve of his rump, and Frodo chuckled under his breath when he felt his own breeches tighten a bit at the sight. _Bold, Frodo... you're bold and wicked._

"Thank you, Sam."

~fin~


End file.
